


icarus

by thepensword



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe — Villains, Gen, It's sad!, as in they last approximately thirty seconds for the most part, author was needlessly poetic at 3am and is also a dumbass, but yeah enjoy, dark birds au, except for lucretia!, sorry folks this is not a happy fic, the birds can't handle their relics!, the relationships are very minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15722163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepensword/pseuds/thepensword
Summary: They are seven birds who tried so hard. But as they flew too close to the sun to escape the grasping darkness below, their wings melted and they fell.Or: the Relics were made to be used. What if their creators were not strong enough to resist?





	icarus

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by and at some points directly borrowing from [this post](https://mcelboycontent.tumblr.com/post/177107506179/gritty-angst-au-all-of-the-ipre-except-lucretia) by [@mcelboycontent](https://mcelboycontent.tumblr.com) on tumblr. 
> 
> rating will probably go up. there's nothing specific to watch out for with this chapter, just an overall dark mood for the whole fic.
> 
> EDIT: i've been informed that the magnus portion of the story contains content that could be triggering for victims of emotional/domestic abuse. it's nothing huge but please be safe.

They are seven birds and they are running.

They are seven birds chasing a light and when they catch it they hold it, and then they lose it and they run again. They run and run and run and they are so, so terribly sick of running.

They are seven birds and they catch the light and they split it into pieces. “This will work,” says Lup. “It has to.” Her brother wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her tight and the birds stare at the items on the tabletop with shining eyes and hearts full of hope.

The journalkeeper watches and her stomach is sick with dread.

They are seven birds and they try their hardest. They are seven birds and they try to stop running. They are seven birds who only wish to save this world, and all the others.

They are seven birds and they fail.

 

* * *

 

 

Lup is passion and love and fire. Her item is the Gauntlet. “Look, Taako,” she smiles. “It makes the good booms.”

Taako laughs at her and rolls his eyes and loves her deeply. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

“Yeah?” challenges Lup, and she snaps her fingers inside the Gauntlet so that flame flickers atop her hand. “You made a fucking  _ rock _ .”

She elbows him and he falls over dramatically and they laugh and love and Lup—

Lup is the fury of watching her friends, her  _ family _ , die again and again and again. Lup is the passion of love so deep that it consumes and fulfills. Lup is the brightness and beauty and rage and destructive force of fire, carved into the shape of a person.

_ Take control,  _ whispers the Gauntlet inside her mind.  _Use me to gain the power you never had as a child. Raze the earth of all who would do wrong. For once in your life, feel like you’re in control of something._

Lup was a child at the mercy of adults. Lup was an adult at the mercy of the Hunger. Lup is sinking in quicksand; she is a bird flying futilely from a storm.

The pull of fire has always been difficult for her to resist.

 

* * *

 

 

Davenport is their captain. He is strong and serious, and his item is the Oculus. “It can turn illusion into reality, see?” he says, and proudly summons a beautiful fountain pen into Lucretia’s hand. She stares at it and he does not see the doubt that flickers in her eyes.

“Wow,” says Lucretia.

Davenport is powerful. Davenport is intelligent. Davenport is proud, and he has been so often underestimated. 

_ Prove yourself to be the most powerful,  _ says the Oculus.  _ Craft the world the way you wish it to be. _

Davenport builds and sculpts and creates. Reality turns to clay beneath his hands and he forms it at will, and soon what is real and what is not bleeds together.

It is so easy to get lost in the maze of reality and fiction.

“I’m Davenport,” he says, and he’s proud. 

He is proud and he is strong and he is lost.

 

* * *

 

 

Merle is kind and rough, like warm sand on the beach. His item is the Sash.

Flowers grow beneath his hands. Vines curl at his boots. “Look, they love me!” he laughs. “Pan would be proud!”

Pan loves Merle but he cannot watch. This power is beautiful and hideous and unnatural.

First they are stems, and then they are vines. First they are slender, and then they are thick, writhing and ensnaring like the coils of some monstrous snake. Merle stands among them and laughs and laughs, and the sky turns black with storm clouds.

_ You wield a power unto your god’s,  _ says the Sash.  _ And perhaps, as a god, you can become ever greater than John.  _

Merle knocks the black kingpiece over on his chess board and laughs. “I win,” he smiles, and the ground shakes and the chessboard topples and he is strong and cruel and terrible and beautiful, like hurricanes or canyons or the unyielding crash of waves. 

Nature is unforgiving, and so is he.

 

* * *

 

 

Taako is one who once had nothing and will do anything to keep what he has earned. His item is the Stone.

“Lup,” he says. He flashes a grin as bright as diamonds and turns his wand to gold and back again. “Look.”

She smiles back and pokes at the Stone. “It’s still stupid,” she says. She says it like she loves him. (She does.)

“You’re stupid,” retorts Taako, and the Stone whispers,  _ stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ in his mind.

With the Stone, Taako can have what he wants, and no one can take it. With the Stone, Taako will never return to having nothing, to being nothing.

_ You can own whatever you want,  _ sings the Stone.  _ You can become whoever you want. No one can harm you, and if they try, you can crush them. _

Taako once had nothing. Now he has everything.

The thrill of possession is something near impossible to give up.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus cares. Magnus loves. Magnus protects. His item is the Cup.

“Stay with me,” says Magnus on the day of his wedding, and holds his wife’s hands tight. Julia laughs and shakes her head and pushes away the spark of fear at the glint in his eyes.

“Of course I’m staying with you,” she says. “That’s the point of marriage. Stupid.”

Magnus frowns and holds her tighter and speaks with more insistence. “No. Stay with me forever. Please. We can stay here, and we can be safe here, forever. I can make us safe for eternity.”

And Julia accepts because she loves him, and because she is afraid of and for him, and because she has no other choice.

Magnus has died so, so many times. He has seen so many others die. He has failed so many times to protect those he should have saved. 

_ Make it all stop,  _ says the Cup.  _ Freeze the world and keep them safe. No death can come when time is still.  _

“I’ll keep you safe,” promises Magnus, and with one hand he cradles his wife’s cheek and with the other he takes hold of the Cup.

Eternal life is so alluring to those who are so acquainted with death.

 

* * *

 

Barry is smart and he is foolish. His item is the Bell.

“The Hunger collects souls,” he says. Lup nods with her eyes closed and he strokes circles through her hair. “So maybe if we can get the souls first, we can stop it.”

“You’re a genius, babe,” says Lup, and she’s half-asleep and maybe not listening, but Barry does not care because he loves her so much and victory feels so close.

_ Collect the souls,  _ says the Bell.  _ As many as you can, as quickly as you can. Move fast, before the Hunger comes. _

So Barry takes and takes and takes. He remembers the robot world and builds an army of mannequins. He loses his body and takes a new one. 

Souls are lost. Lives are destroyed. But what is loss of life to someone who can so easily replace it?

 

* * *

 

 

The Gauntlet. The Oculus. The Sash. The Stone. The Cup. The Bell. The Staff.

Seven items, turning the world to chaos. Seven birds, bloods thick with poison.

 

* * *

 

Lucretia grips her Staff close to her body.  _ Stop this,  _ it whispers.  _ Put up the barrier you know you can cast. _

She ignores it. She cannot do that. Not without her family. Not when she has seen what words such as these has done to them.

She is not the strongest or the smartest or the bravest, but she has been alone before and she will not allow herself to become a monster.

Lucretia closes her eyes and thinks grimly that there should be more pleasure in being proved right. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ These are not your friends anymore, Lucretia,  _ she tells herself, as she puts pen to paper and pins map to wall and gets to work. 

There’s a world to save and only she is left to save it. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> yeah
> 
>  the rest of the chapters will probably be longer. think of this like a prologue i guess.
> 
> [my tumblr](https://thepensword.tumblr.com)


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